A Disastrous Visit
by Wisdom Witch
Summary: Sealand has to stay with England for a week. What sort of mischief will the micronation get up to? Rated T just to be safe.
1. England, the babysitter

**A/N: Hello everyone! Just wanted to say that this story will use both human names and names (although it will use human names more... hope that this doesn't confuse anyone).**

**Chapter One**

The personification of England let out a sigh of relief when the World Meeting had come to an end. It had been a disaster; the countries of the world had accomplished nothing, several countries had numerous fights, everyone had been shouting the entire time (much to the frustration of Ludwig, who had tried and failed to get everyone to shut up), and what was worse, stupid Peter had somehow managed to sneak into the meeting. That boy really got on Arthur's nerves...

Arthur got up and was about to leave the conference room when someone called his name. He spun around and his bushy eyebrows shot up.

"Berwald?"

"Art'ur." Berwald repeated as he strode towards the shorter blond, with a cheery-faced Tino and a gloomy Peter in tow. Peter sent a death glare in Arthur's direction and Arthur regarded him coldly in return.

"Hello, Arthur! How are you today?" Tino smiled at Arthur.

"I'm...fine." Arthur replied, looking a little puzzled.

"Tha's good." Tino's smile widened and it looked as if it might tear his face apart. They awkwardly stared at each other for a while.

"Well... it was nice speaking to you." Arthur finally broke the silence, wanting nothing more than to go home, drink tea and relax.

"W-wait! Just wait! I, erm... Berwald and I wanted to know if you could look after Peter next week. We're going to be away for a while with the other Nordics... we've got very important matters to discuss and we'd rather not get Petteri involved-"

"Peter." Peter interjected.

"-Yes, Peter," Tino smiled apologetically at the micronation, "Anyway, we need someone to... look after him while we're away." Tino explained with a shy expression on his face.

"I see..."

"So... will you look after him? We understand if you're too busy to take him in for a week, we'll get someone else..."

"Could you? It's just, I'll be very busy myself. I've got lots of work to do." Arthur lied. Why would he want to look after a selfish little brat when he could just relax and drink tea?

Tino's expression faltered, Peter glared at Arthur with hate-filled eyes and Berwald remained as stoic as ever.

"Stupid England... doesn't even care..." Peter muttered under his breath.

"Oh. Well then, like I said, we'll just have to get someone else. Er... do you have any recommendations?" Tino asked hopefully. He knew that Estonia wouldn't be able to look after Peter, as he was busy himself. Oh, the woes of being a country.

"Just get someone other than me," Arthur smiled, "Good day." he said before he started to walk away.

"Jerk..." Peter mumbled.

Tino looked slightly stunned. "Well... who should we get now? Alfred? Elisabeta?" he paused for a moment, "Francis?"

At Berwald's questioning look, he expalined, "I know he's a bit of a pervert, but you can't deny, he's good with kids. He did raise Matthew, after all."

"Who?"

"Matthew. You know... Canada. Alfred's brother."

Silence.

"Who?"

Tino sighed, "Nevermind. The point is, he's a good big brother. Maybe he'll look after Peter..."

"Isä, I'm standing right here." Peter scowled. He hated it when people talked about him as if he wasn't there.

"Sorry," Tino apologised automatically, then turned to Berwald. "Think we should ask him?"

Judging from the look on his face, Berwald clearly did not like the idea. He did not trust the perverted nation of romance- but then again, Berwald didn't trust anyone (with the possible exception of Tino and Peter). However, there was no one else that Berwald could think of, and so he nodded.

The family of three set off to find Francis- only to find him brawling with Arthur.

"**What **did you say about my cooking, you bloody frog?!"

"You know exactly what I said. It is ze most deesgusting thing I 'ave ever tasted, I was eel for three months after eating your cooking! It tastes worse than worms and maggots on a moldy piece of 'am!"

"Why you-!"

Berwald cleared his throat and the two rivals stopped arguing and stared at the older nation. The cold, blue eyes and the blank look that was etched on his face almost made Arthur shudder. Almost.

"Francis. We wo'ld l'ke to sp'ek w'th y'u." Berwald stated and Francis frowned.

"Oh, um. Very well."

"M'wife and I wo'ld appr'ciate it if y'u co'ld look af'er Pe'er n'xt week."

"How many times do I have to say this? I am not your wife, Berwald!" a fuming Tino was ignored by everyone. He cared for Berwald, loved him even, but he was not and would never be romantically involved with him... or so he kept insisting.

Francis blinked.

"You... want me... to look after Sealand?"

Berwald inclined his head. Arthur gaped at Berwald as if he'd gone mad. Who the hell would ask a creep like Francis to babysit?

"Why, I'd be delighted to!" Francis exclaimed happily. "We'll cook, we'll go dancing, we'll go fishing-"

"Now wait just one minute!" Arthur said rather loudly, his initial shock wearing off. "You won't be doing any of those ridiculous things together!"

Francis raised an eyebrow and Tino frowned.

"**I** will be the one looking after Peter next week!" Arthur stated. Lithuania and Poland, who had been in the same area, gaped at him in shock. Arthur ignored them, despite being a little shocked himself. He knew he was doing the right thing, though. There was no way in hell he would let his little brother stay with that pervert for an entire week! He may hate the little toe-rag, but his hatred for the brat was nothing, nothing compared to his hatred for the frog. He would never wish for anyone to spend a week with Francis, not even an enemy.

"But... I thought you said you were busy-"

"Well... I'm not **that** busy. Just a little. I suppose having little Peter around won't be too much of a nuisance-"

Peter gritted his teeth and shot Arthur a death squint.

"-after all, he is my... brother." Arthur said with an uneasy expression, as though it pained him to ever admit that he was related to Peter. "So would it really be a bad thing if he came over? We are brothers and our relationship is... strained. It would be a good idea to try and... and... _bond _with each other." Arthur said with difficulty. Oh dear God, no one would ever believe that he actually wanted to bond with the brat.

Berwald and Tino stared at each other, as if considering Arthur's proposal.

"I suppose... it wouldn't be a terrible idea..." Tino trailed.

Oh, yes. Yes it would. Arthur knew it. Francis knew it. Peter knew it. Berwald knew it. Tino knew it, but didn't want to admit it.

"Like you said, you are his brother..." Tino said, then bit his lip. He looked at Berwald, who nodded his approval. "Oh, alright! Besides, what harm could it do?"

Francis looked defeated, Arthur looked as if he had been sent to the gallows (despite having asked to look after Peter, he really, really didn't want to) and Peter scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Don't I get a say in this?" he asked bitterly.

Everyone ignored him.

Arthur Kirkland let out a long sigh as he sat down on his favourite armchair in his cosy mansion. He sipped his tea and anxiously glanced at the grandfather clock. Peter was to arrive in five minutes. The blond sighed and put his tea cup down. He'd best get ready for the little devil's arrival. Why had he agreed to this again? Oh, that's right, because he was an idiot... and he really didn't want Peter to spend time with that pervert Francis. Lord knows what horrors he'd have gone through. At least with Arthur, he was safe... or safer.

_Ding dong._

The doorbell rang, causing a shiver to run down Arthur's spine. As he went to answer the door, he wondered what would get broken during the rascal's visit. He opened the door widely and stared at the two nations that stood on his doorstep, one of them carrying a large sack.

"Moi, Arthur!" Tino greeted Arthur with a wide smile. Arthur managed to make a feeble smile in return.

"Hello, Tino... Berwald." he acknowledged as he saw the very tall man who stood behind Tino. He stepped aside and, like the wonderful gentleman that he was, asked, "would you like to come in?"

"Thank you for the offer, but no. We really should get going. You'll find everything Peter needs in here," Tino handed the sack over to Arthur, "I apologise for not bringing a suitcase, but we needed more than we thought we did. Suitcases, that is. We had to take poor Peter's suitcase," Tino leaned in closer towards Arthur and whispered, "I'm sorry for Peter's behaviour last week. He doesn't usually act that way. He was very upset, that's all."

"I see... " Arthur said, but then realised something, "speaking of Peter, where is he?"

"Peter? Why, he's right-" Tino turned around and his eyes widened. "Peter?"

There was no sign of the micronation.

"B-but I don't understand! He was here just a few seconds ago-!"

"He's ov'r th're." Berwald said, jerking his head in the direction of a small boy who was happily playing with a little black and white cat.

Arthur marched towards Peter and yelled, "Hey!"

Peter flinched, thinking that Arthur was talking to him.

"Get out of here, cat!"

The cat saw Arthur approaching it too quickly for its liking and took off. Peter scowled at his older brother.

"You didn't have to do that, it didn't do anything wrong."

"That bloody cat always comes here, it scares Flying Mint-Bunny."

Peter frowned. Wasn't that one of Arthur's imaginary friends?

"Peter!"

Peter's head snapped in the direction of the voice.

"Peter, Pappa and I are leaving now," Tino said with a sad look on his usally cheerful face, "aren't you going to say goodbye?" he opened his arms widely.

Peter immediately ran into them and Tino gave his son a big bear hug. Peter wrapped his arms around Tino's neck tightly. Normally, Peter wasn't this clingy. But he was upset. Not only was he being parted from his beloved parents for half a fortnite, but he had to stay with that jerk England.

Tino had to pry Peter off him and Peter turned to Berwald. The father and son exchanged a long hug, and the loving look that Berwald gave his son surprised Arthur. He had hardly ever seen any emotion on Berwald's face and when he had, it was either directed at Tino or it was because he was angry.

"Well... we should get going. We'll see you in a week's time." Tino held out his hand to Arthur, who accepted it and shook it.

"Berwald." Arthur managed to make a small smile and Berwald inclined his head.

"Look af'er h'm."

"I will." Arthur promised. He watched as the family of three exchanged last goodbyes before Berwald and Tino climbed into their car and took off, with Tino waving at the two brothers. Peter waved back, his arms swinging in the air wildly and nearly whacking Arthur's face. The two Kirkland brothers stayed there until the car was out of sight. Peter let his arms drop to his sides.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed." Peter said, despite the fact that it was only six pm.

"Don't forget to brush your teeth." Arthur reminded automatically.

Peter grumbled in response and walked inside the big mansion, leaving his older brother with his sack.

**A/N: So, that's the first chapter done! The boys are in for a long week. Now, I know that usually in some stories, Tino is the "mama". Well, I just wanted to have Peter call him "isä", which means "dad" in Finnish and to have him call Berwald "pappa", which is "dad" in Swedish. I'm not quite happy with this chapter and I know that it's short, but next chapter will be longer (and much better). I feel that some of the characters might be a bit OOC, so if you feel that way too, please tell me. Constructive criticism is welcome. Please review!**


	2. America Pays A Visit

**Chapter Two**

A ray of sunlight found its way into the dark room, landing on the blond man's face. Arthur started to stir and blinked, using his right arm to shield his face from the bright light. The nation sat up and yawned before getting out of bed. He started to stretch a little before he padded down the marble staircase and headed straight for the kitchen.

He took out a frying pan and set it on the stove. He got the eggs out from his fridge and started breaking them before heating the stove. He put bread in the toaster and looked at the large clock on the wall opposite him. His eyes widened. Was it really that late?

Arthur couldn't believe that he had overslept and went upstairs to wake Peter up. He opened the door to Peter's room and found the little boy snoring loudly in his bed. "Peter, get up."

Peter turned a little in his sleep.

"Peter, it's late, come on!"

The micronation continued to sleep.

"Peter, you lazy boy! Get up!"

The only response Arthur got was a loud snore. Arthur narrowed his eyes a little and marched over to the curtains. He pulled them apart and light filled the room. Arthur turned around and was surprised to find that the child was still sound asleep. Light always woke Arthur up; although this could be simply because he was usually a light sleeper... which was probably why he didn't get enough sleep and often fell asleep during world meetings or worse, around his boss.

"Peter, come on. Wake up, please. If you get up, I'll bake you some cookies." Arthur said with a sing-song tone. This made Peter bury his face in his pillows and snore even louder than before. Arthur was certain that he was faking it.

The ex-Empire scowled and began to shake the boy gently, hoping to rouse him. However, the boy wouldn't wake up and Arthur started shaking him with more intensity until eventually, Peter was pushed off the bed. The little boy fell on the floor with a loud thud and woke up with a yelp. Peter looked up at Arthur with a scowl.

"Well, goodmorning to you too." Arthur said and Peter shot him a death squint.

"You didn't have to push me off the bed, you jerk."

Arthur ignored him and asked, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

The boy didn't answer, continuing to glare at his older brother.

"It's seven a.m! Seven!" Arthur cried out. "I never wake up at seven! We were supposed to be up early today so that I could start working and you could do- well, whatever the hell it is that you do. I'll never get that report finished in time!"

Peter raised an eyebrow at his brother's antics.

Arthur took in a deep breath, calming himself a little as Peter got up.

"Breakfast will be ready soon; get dressed and come down in three minutes." he ordered swiftly before leaving the micronation alone. Peter stuck his tongue out at the door. What a jerk.

Heading for his wardrobe, Peter picked out his clothes, making sure to take a really long time. He took off his pajama top when the beeping sound of a fire alarm came out of nowhere. The loud noise startled Peter and the boy ran downstairs half-naked. He saw smoke coming from the kitchen and immediately made a beeline for it. He coughed a little and squinted his eyes, spotting England waving a towel around. The image of his older brother trying to whack smoke reminded Peter of Feliciano waving his white flag. Arthur looked so silly that Peter would have laughed had it not been for the fact that he was too busy coughing. Ultimately, though, the smoke was too much for Peter and he backed out of the room.

A few minutes later, Arthur managed to turn the smoke alarm off and after a few more minutes, the room was officially smoke-less. Well, except for Arthur's burnt toast.

"Can I skip breakfast?" Sealand piped up hopefully, entering the room once more. Arthur shot him a dark look and it took everything Peter had not to cringe. He sighed defeatedly and walked over to the table, sitting down on a random chair. He swallowed and took a piece of toast. He stared at it for a good long minute, picking at it with his fingers and dropping it on his plate.

Seeing the boy pick at his toast made Arthur sigh. The nation got up, took the boy's plate and dumped the contents in the bin. Peter stared at his brother and Arthur did his best to ignore him. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and chucked it at his younger brother, who surprisingly caught it.

"You need to eat something. There's milk in the fridge. I'll be in my study should you need me." Arthur informed his brother, hoping that Peter wouldn't need him, before heading out of the kitchen. Then he stopped and looked back at Peter with a frown on his face. "Why are you half-naked?"

Peter looked down and, as if noticing it for the first time, blushed furiously.

"I- I... erm.. I..." Peter stuttered, not being able to form proper words. He suddenly dashed out of the room, racing back upstairs. Arthur shook his head and tutted as he heard Peter's door slam.

XXXXX

Peter stared blankly at the TV. He picked up the remote that lay next to him and turned the TV off. He was bored. There was nothing to do in this big, empty house. He wished that he had brought some video games and a game console, but his parents had been against the idea. He needed to find something to do. He was so close to just leaving this place. Honestly, Peter wondered why he didn't just go out and do something. Maybe that cute cat was back...

Peter got up and started wandering around. He hadn't been to many places in this mansion, despite having lived here once upon a time. Peter whistled as he jogged up the stairs and strolled down the corridor before coming to a stop in front of a large, oak door. Peter had often wondered what was in there, but it was always locked. Peter had long given up questioning England about what the room held. Arthur would always tell him (quite angrily) that it was none of his business and that he should stay the hell away from that door. After that, Peter simply assumed that Arthur kept dirty magazines.

Peter reached for the doorknob and twisted it but, as usual, nothing happened. Peter wasn't surprised; he knew that it would be locked, but he simply did this out of habit. Peter was a curious child and always wanted to go to places that he shouldn't go to (*cough*world meetings*cough*). For whatever reason, the fact that Arthur didn't want him to go into that room made him want to see it even more. An idea popped into his head. There was a window in that room, wasn't there? Then surely he'd be able to get in that room from the outside. Grinning widely, the micronation sped downstairs and was almost at the door when the doorbell rang.

Peter came to an abrupt stop. He stared incredously at the door. Who could it possibly be?  
The doorbell rang numerous times. _Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding dong_.

Peter hurried to open the door before whoever it was could ring the doorbell again. He was shocked to find America standing outside. Alfred seemed equally as shocked to find Peter in Arthur's house. He quickly recovered though and grinned widely.

"Hey, Sealand! Is England here?"

"Er, yeah. He's in his study. I'll go get him now." Peter said quickly and slammed the door in Alfred's face. Peter raced to Arthur's study and knocked on the door rapidly.

"Peter, I'm busy. Go away." came a muffled voice from behind the door.

"Arthur, open up! Your fake-brother is here to see you!" Peter yelled.

"Fake-brother?" asked a bewildered voice.

"America!"

"America's here... but why?"

"I don't know! He wants to talk to you, now open up!"

Peter heard footsteps coming closer and then the door opened.

"Where is he?" Arthur asked.

Rolling his eyes, Peter replied, "He's outside."

Arthur frowned, but hurried downstairs. He flung the front door open and saw a tall young man's back facing him.

"Alfred?"

The man turned around and grinned goofily. "Hiya, Iggy! I need to talk to you- it's important!" Alfred pushed past the ex-Empire that had raised him and invited himself in.

"Woo, nice house! Looks exactly the same as the last time I came here!"

"That's probably because you came here last week." Arthur muttered, having grown annoyed by America's sudden visits.

"So aren't you going to offer me anything to eat? Like, oh I don't know... burgers?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"I don't have any burgers, America. Now what do you want?" Arthur demanded.

"I just told you, I have something important to tell you!"

"Then go ahead and tell me what's so important."

"I can't on an empty stomach! Also, this is kind of a business visit... I think..."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Besides, this is kind of private, and we can't speak freely in front of non-nations about this stuff..." America trailed on, looking directly at Peter, who had followed Arthur downstairs and hadn't left.

"There are no non-nations here." the little micronation said. Arthur sighed.

"Peter, go play or something."

"What? Why? I want to listen to whatever Alfie has to say," (well, that was a first... sure, Peter wanted to impress America at times, hoping that someone would recognise him as a country, but usually Alfred just spouted nonsense), "Maybe I could help!"

Alfred and Arthur exchanged doubtful looks.

"Peter, this really doesn't concern you. Just go out and play for a while."

"With what? There's nothing here that I can play with!" Peter exclaimed.

"Well, just go to your room then! Or better yet, start doing some work around this here. Make yourself useful!"

"No! I want to listen to what Alfred has to say! I'm a country and I have a right-!"

"For Heaven's sake, Peter, you're not a bloody country! You're just a silly little boy who has yet to grow up!"

Alfred watched awkwardly as Arthur and Peter continued bickering. He scratched the back of his neck, thinking of ways to stop the two from fighting.

"Guys, come on. Don't fight. Look, Petey, I understand why you'd want to know what's going on. But if you do as Iggy says, I'll buy you ice-cream... and a burger."

Both of the youngest Kirkland brothers scowled a bit at America's nicknames for them. Peter didn't answer, instead preferring to glare at Alfred.

Arthur looked down at his little brother expectantly.

"Fine." Peter said through gritted teeth before storming away. Arthur really didn't understand why his brother wanted to be a country so much. There were as many bad things as there were good that came with it. He also didn't understand why Peter would throw a hissy fit when someone told him the truth- that he was not and would never be a country.

Arthur turned to face Alfred, "Should we take this in my study?"

"Sure. Hey, why is Sealand here anyway?" Alfred asked the nation who raised him as they headed for England's study.

"Finland and Sweden dropped him off yesterday so that I could babysit him. They're doing something with the other Nordics, I believe," he explained when Alfred gave him a blank look, "I'm stuck with the little brat for a week... it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet and he's already been driving me mad."

"Hey, he's not that bad. Sure, he can be annoying, but he's a kid. Kids are cute and annoying, it's just what they are. Except for me... I was never annoying."  
Arthur cocked his eyebrow. He wanted to believe that Alfred was always annoying, but a part of him knew that as a child, Alfred was the sweetest thing ever (not that he would ever admit it). Oh, how times change...

"Besides, he just wants to be treated as an equal. I know what that feels like..." Alfred said as he looked away from Arthur.

"Yes, well... he isn't a country. It's different with you and the others, you're all real countries. He just likes to think he is." England stated and opened the door to his study. Arthur and Alfred stepped inside.

"But maybe he could be, one day..."

Arthur gave him an incredulous look. "Sealand? A country? That's prepostorous."

"Alright, it is a bit ridiculous, but hey, the kid has dreams and ambitions. Who are we to crush them?"

"I have no qualms against having dreams and ambitions, however it does become a problem when he somehow manages to sneak into meetings and starts yelling that he's a nation and ought to be respected and treated like one and all that rubbish."

"You're sorta right. It is sometimes frustrating."

Arthur hummed in agreement.

"Right, well, enough about that. What was it that you wanted to tell me?" Arthur asked as he sat down on his swivel chair behind his desk. Alfred suddenly grinned.

"Iggy... as you very well know, it's gonna be my birthday in two weeks..." Alfred beamed and Arthur groaned.

"Did you really need to remind me?"

Alfred ignored Arthur's comment, "This year, it's gunna be real special! However..." a sad-looking expression came across Alfred's face, "Every year ever since... my idependence..."

Arthur tensed.

"You've never visited me on my birthday. This year, though, I would like to invite you to my birthday party."

Silence.

"_This _was the important thing that you had to tell me about?"

"I'm not finished. My boss agrees with me and thinks that it will... help our relations. He's gonna visit your boss tomorrow-"

"WHAT!? Why the bloody hell wasn't I informed about this?!" Arthur demanded.

"Our bosses thought it would be better if you heard it from me. If the other nations see you at my birthday party, they'll think that we're friends-"

"But we're not."

"I know that! It would be completely ridiculous if we were. However, it would be awesome if everyone else thought we were and-"

"Let me interrupt you there for a moment. If the whole world believed us to be `friends´, we'd have to act as if we were in public."

Alfred stared at him, "Well, yeah, that's kinda the point-"

"Alfred. We spend most of our time in public. Well, you do anyway," Arthur said bitterly, "We'd have to be acting almost all the time."

Alfred stopped and looked as if he was actually thinking for once. "I know that. But my boss... well, he wants to be allies with your boss-"

"They already are!"

"I know, but he wants to be... friends," Alfred gulped. "You think I actually like the idea?"

"You seem to act like you do..."

"Listen, I want you to come to my birthday party, but not to strengthen our relations; simply so that everyone can have a good time. You know, I invited the whole world." Alfred said proudly, puffing his chest.

"The whole world?"

"Well, not Russia, obviously... or Cuba... or North Korea... or Syria... and Afghanistan isn't invited, either-"

"Alright, I get it, I get it! If my boss wants me to go to your stupid party, then I'll go!" England exclaimed. Alfred froze.

"You... you mean it?"

"Of course I bloody mean it... but I'll only go if my boss makes me."

America gaped at his ex-mentor/parental figure/big brother/whatever in shock. Then-

"WOOHOO! ALRIGHT! Iggy's comin' to mah party!" Alfred whooped, "Oh, this is gunna be so much fun!" Alfred rushed over to give Arthur a bone-crushing hug,

"GARGH! Gerroff me, you stupid bloody git!" Arthur snapped and Alfred immediately released him.

"This is great- I gotta tell everyone-"

"What?! NO! America, don't you dare, or so help me God, I will-"

A loud slam interrupted Arthur and the nation realised that Alfred had already left. Growling, he sprinted out of the stairs and sprinted downstairs (he would normally never do such a thing and hated it when people would run down the stairs). He saw Alfred at the front door.

"HEY! You tell anyone about this-!"

"Oh come on, Iggy! They're gonna find out anyway!"

"I don't care, I don't bloody care!" Arthur shouted, "Even though I have agreed to this absymal plan of yours, this by no means mean that we are friends!"

"Friends? Ha! Not on your life, sucker!" Alfred poked his tongue out at Arthur childishly before taking off. Arthur shook his head before going back to his study.

XXXXX

Peter scowled. Stupid England and America... always telling him what to do. Why couldn't anyone just be nice to him? He was usually rather cheerful and didn't normally care if people pointed out that he wasn't a country. But staying over at England's house was simply dreadful. Sure, he sometimes dropped by once in a while (much to the annoyance of Arthur), but that was mostly just to annoy Arthur. He hadn't lived with him in a long, long time. True, it was only for a week, but a week was a long time in Peter's mind.

Peter aimlessly strolled outside in Arthur's beautiful gardens and looked up. Such a beautiful, clear blue sky...

Then something caught the micronation's attention. From the corner of his eye, he could see a high-up window. Peter realised that this was the window of that mysterious room that Arthur refused to let Peter in. He was bored and slightly angry, so Peter decided to do possibly the stupidest thing possible in this situation; climb up to the window. Peter saw a tall oak tree a few metres away from the window and decided that he should probably climb from that first. The boy walked over to the tree and grabbed a branch before pulling himself up. He started climbing the tree. His hands hurt a little, but Peter didn't care.

Peter reached up for a branch and slipped on the branch that was underneath his feet. Fortunately, he caught the branch that he had been reaching up for. In the nick of time He gripped it tightly and resumed climbing. Eventually he reached a branch that was level with the window, but he was too busy panting to notice. He stopped and stared at it for a while. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and started moving along the branch that was level with the window. With every step he took, the branch would crackle underneath him and tilt.

Peter continued walking along the branch, arms spread out to balance him. He could see that he was quite near the window now; he could probably jump from the branch. The thought excited the child and he quickly took a step forward. The branch snapped and Peter made a noise between a scream and a yelp. He fell on the ground and lay motionless. The wind had been completely knocked out of him. His vision was starting to get hazy and the beautiful, clear blue sky was just a blue blur. Then everything went black.

**A/N: Oh, Sealand, that was very stupid of you! I apologise for posting this chapter so late, I really did mean to post it earlier. I also apologise for the rubbish ending. Also, I'm sorry if any of the characters are too OOC. Anyway, about England's "light sleeper" thing... I just watched the episode where he falls asleep in the middle of the meeting and the allies consider waking him up, and I just think that England doesn't get enough sleep. He's probably too busy talking to those mythical creatures of his :). I also apologise for any spelling mistakes I may have made. I did check, but I'm a bit sleepy write now. So what did you guys think? Good? Bad? You tell me in that lovely review of yours ;)!**


	3. Give It Time

**A/N: Holy moley! It's been almost a month since I last updated. Because I am so dreadfully late, I decided to post another chapter ASAP. I have to be honest, I don't really like this chapter and I'm already writing the next one (which is much more fun to write, to be honest). I just felt that I had to update soon, y'know? So there's another author's note at the end (oh, the horror!), but that's just there to, um, explain a few more things. Please review, constructive critcism is welcome. :)**

**Chapter Three**

Peter groaned as he finally opened his eyes. He looked up at the sky, which had turned a grey-ish colour. He attempted to sit up, but his back was aching and he gently lay back down. There was a throbbing pain in his upper body, but he couldn't even feel the lower part. Tears were starting to form in the micronation's eyes. His back hurt so much...

He hated to admit it, but he needed help. So Peter did something that no one could do better... he wailed as loud as he could. He hoped that someone would come for him... hell, at this point, he wouldn't even mind if that jerk England found him. He just wanted the pain to stop.

Peter was relieved when he could hear footsteps coming his way. Finally, someone had found him! However his happiness was short-lived when he realised that these footsteps were incredibly light and saw... a cat. In fact, it so happened to be the same cat that he had seen yesterday. Peter had the sudden urge to let out another wail. What could a cat do to help him?

The cat crept closer to Peter and lay down on the crook of his neck, rubbing its fluffy head on Peter's face. Peter let out a strangled sort of noise. He hissed a little when the cat moved onto his shoulder. The cat made itself comfortable and Peter let out a very loud yelp. The cat seemed surprisingly unfazed, so Peter started wriggling about, startling the cat. The startled cat hissed and got up, walking away and leaving him all alone. Peter hadn't meant to scare the cat away, but it had hurt terribly when the cat had been lying down on him. In fact, it still hurt a lot.

He gazed back up at the sky and a drop of water fell on his face. It started raining and Peter let out a sob. He was hurt, he couldn't move, and to top it all off, it was raining.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Arthur smiled as he poured himself a cup of tea. He had finally finished all his paper work for the day. Now, he could just relax and enjoy the comforting silence that his home offered. Just as those thoughts ran through his head, he heard a muffled wail. Arthur frowned, pausing, but he eventually shook it off. It was probably the wind or something.

Arthur leaned back in his swivel chair and held the warm cup of tea close to his lips. He inhaled the scent and started quietly sipping the tea. Arthur heard a yell and he jamp, spilling tea all over his trousers. Glaring daggers at his soaked trousers and muttering curses under his breath, the ex-Empire grabbed a tissue from the tissue box and started wiping his trousers furiously. When he was done, he picked up his tea cup once more and finished it. He leaned back and observed his now dry trousers in disgust. What the hell had that yell been all about? Either he was just imagining things (which was highly unlikely) or his dear little pest of a brother was up to no good. Arthur would bet that it was the latter.

He closed his eyes and heard a pitter patter. He turned around in his swivel chair to look out of the enormous glass window. It was raining... again. Sighing, England decided to change his trousers. He left his beloved study and was about to enter one of the many bathrooms that he owned when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned his head to the side and his eyes widened in shock. Right in front of him was a cat, just sitting in the middle of the hallway and staring at him. Arthur recognised the cat immediately.

Arthur growled and marched towards the cat. When the cat didn't scamper, he had the sudden urge to kick it.

"Leave, you stupid cat!"

The cat stood up and turned around, walking too slowly for Arthur's liking. Arthur decided to follow it. After all, he had no idea where the cat had come from and he needed to make sure that it got out of his house. When the cat was about to enter another room, Arthur grabbed the cat by the scruff of its neck and lifted it up before putting as much distance between the two as he could. Arthur didn't generally hate cats, however, for some reason, he absolutely loathed this one. It pissed him off to no end.

When he got to the front door, he threw the cat out. The cat didn't even make a sound and landed on its feet. It stared at him. However, it was still raining outside and the cat hissed, starting to get wet and tried to run back inside. Arthur slammed the door before it got the chance.

Arthur turned to head back to the bathroom when he heard someone bawling like a baby. Despite how big the mansion was, the walls were very thin in this house. It could be a curse and a blessing. Arthur stared at the front door in shock. Was it the cat that was bawling? No, that was absolutely absurd. Cats couldn't cry... well, not like that anyway. However, the noise did sound like it came from outside. Arthur wondered if one of his citizens had somehow found their way here. Curious, the nation opened the door and, to his astonishment and irritation, saw that the cat was still sitting there. Arthur looked up at the sky. It was still raining and the cat somehow seemed to have grown accustomed to it.

The cat stared at Arthur expectantly. It got up and walked away. Pfft. Good riddance. Arthur was about to close the door when the cat came back. It seemed to be jerking its head to the side, as if wanting Arthur to follow it. Arthur rolled his eyes and was about to shut the door once more before another wail broke out. It was louder and sounded closer this time. The cat had started to walk away. Brows furrowing, Arthur decided to follow it.

Arthur walked out in the rain, unfazed by it. If it were someone else, he would have thought that they were insane for going out in the pouring rain with nothing but a sweater and light grey trousers on. However, he wasn't someone else, and he was used to the rain. He didn't need an umbrella.

England noticed that the crying hadn't stopped and had increased in volume. He headed towards the source of the noise, all the while following that stupid cat, and found himself near the huge tree at the back of the house. However, what caught his attention was the figure of a little boy lying on the ground, crying in pain.

Arthur managed to refrain from gasping and ran towards his little brother. He tried to conceal his worry for Peter and put an arm around the micronation. He heaved the boy up none-too gently in his haste to get back inside, causing Sealand to let out a sharp gasp. Arthur didn't apologise, instead trying to get inside the house as fast as he could.

Arthur barged inside and ran to the closest room. He lay Sealand down in the drawing room on a sofa. He managed to get Peter's shirt off and turned him to the side to examine his back. England's jaw clenched at what he saw.

"Bloody hell, Peter..."

Although Peter only looked slightly injured at the front, one could clearly see huge, giant red and purple bruises on his back. Arthur lightly ran a gentle hand over a few of them and Peter winced. Arthur withdrew the hand and a completely lost expression found its way on his face.

Arthur didn't know what to do. He obviously couldn't take Peter to a hospital, because those were for humans and some people may get extremely suspicious at the rate he would undoubtedly be recovering in.

Arthur ran a hand through his blond locks and stared out of the window.

Maybe it was just best to make Peter more comfortable (if possible) and to leave him be. It definitely looked bad and if Arthur were to take a hazard guess, he'd say that Peter must have suffered a great fall.

Perhaps there was no need to worry, though. It wasn't like it was permanent. Peter would probably recover in a day or two. Unless... Arthur's eyes widened. Unless if there was something wrong with his strange little metal platform thing... if there was something wrong with Sealand.

"Ar...th...ur..." Peter groaned, trying to get his brother's attention. Arthur's head snapped around to face him.

"What is it, Peter?" Arthur asked, keeping the worry out of his voice. It would do no good for Peter to show him how he really felt. Besides, Peter would probably be fine tomorrow, and then Peter would revert back to the useless, good-for-nothing, arrogant brat that he was.

"...hurts..." Peter looked up at Arthur. He hated himself for doing this; for appearing weak in front of his stupid big brother. He was the Almighty Sealand; he did not beg, did not plead, did not need any help. But he was also Peter... a little boy who had the same dream as many little boys did: to become the most powerful country in the world.

Arthur's eyes softened the tiniest bit but his face remained impassive. He looked down at his little brother and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Peter, but there's nothing I can do," Arthur paused, looking as if he wanted to say something else, "Peter, does this have anything to do with your, erm, metal platform?"

Peter scrunched up his nose and his eyes screwed in confusion, "Metal platform?"

Before Arthur could say anything else, Peter slapped his forehead. He then winced at the pain of moving his arm.

"You mean... me, right? Sealand? 'Cause I'm a country and all," Peter said. Arthur nodded, choosing to ignore that little `I'm a country´ comment. "Well... no. It's nothing... internal or anything. I just... fell."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "You fell?"

"Yes..." Peter averted his eyes.

Arthur rolled his eyes. He knew that there was something more to it, but right now, he just couldn't bring himself to care. Peter had probably just been his usual idiot self and done something stupid. Hardly out of the ordinary.

"So... what are you going to do?" Peter asked innocently, which caused Arthur to frown suspiciously.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I'm kind of injure right now and... are you going to help me?" Peter's voice was so sickly sweet that it would probably give Arthur diabetes. Peter was trying too hard.

"If I can," Arthur replied, "But like I said, there's nothing I can do... at least, not at the moment. It would be best if you just got some rest."

Peter didn't look too happy with that answer and for once, Arthur didn't blame him. That was a pretty pathetic thing to say, but really, what could he do? He wasn't a doctor or a healer or anything. Their best bet was to just wait.

"Do you think you can move again, or do you want to stay here?"

"I think I'll stay here." Peter spoke softly. Arthur nodded and stood up.

"I'll get you some blankets and some water then, shall I?"

Arthur didn't wait for a reply and took off. Peter turned his head to face the giant window. It was still pouring with rain out there. In fact, Peter swore that he could hear thunder.

Peter's back ached like hell, but it already felt better than it had before. It seemed that he had already started healing.

Arthur had returned shortly with a glass of water in one hand and blankets draped over his other arm. He set the glass down on the little tea table (yes, tea table... Arthur would never call those things coffee tables...). Arthur handed the blankets over to Peter, who gladly accepted them. He wrapped the blankets around his body. He hadn't realised just how cold he was. He had somehow forgotten that he was soaking wet, probably because he had been too busy focusing on the pain.

"Er... England? Should I take a shower?" Peter asked.

"...Why? You're injured." Arthur stated plainly.

"I-I know that. But... I smell..."

Arthur blinked, "Sealand, you always smell."

Peter threw him a withering glare that seemed to have no effect whatsoever on his brother, "I'm... cold."

Arthur took a good long look at him, then gasped.

"Peter, you're soaking!"

Peter rolled his eyes, "I can see that, thanks."

"You must be freezing!"

"That's what I just said, you idiot."

"Alright, alright, no need to get snappy." Arthur threw Peter a glare of his own. Peter huffed and stuck his nose up in the air.

"Heh, you going blind with your old age? You didn't even notice that I was wet."

_Okay... that sounded so wrong, _Peter thought. What a sick minded little boy he was.

"You're right, I didn't notice. I was too busy trying to help you. My mistake. Next time, I'll just get a towel and dump it over your head then, shall I?

"Yeah, `helping´. You got me some blankets and water, then you tell me I should just sleep it off. You should get the brother of the year award." Peter said, words dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey! You ought to be grateful! I was the one who had to haul your fat arse inside."

"I'm not fat, you dick."

"Don't call me that, Sealand. You shouldn't call your elders names... you git." Arthur reprimanded, completely ignoring what Peter said, because he knew it was the truth. Not the thing about him being fat... because Peter was one heavy little brat. However, England knew that he wasn't much help, but still, he was trying and the little snot should at least appreciate what he was trying to do. Peter managed to raise an eyebrow.

"Does that count for you too?"

"Of course not. I can do whatever I bloody please."

"Then why can't I?"

"Because you're an annoying waste of space, that's why."

"Yeah, well you're a jerk."

"You know, you really are a brat through and through."

"I am not a brat! I am the mighty Sealand and one day, I will-"

"Oh, don't start with that rubbish again."

"It's not rubbish! It's the truth!"

"Oh please, Sealand. Don't make me laugh."

"You're a stupid jerk, England."

"Little prick."

"Dickhead."

"Bloody git."

"Bitch."

"Ignoramus."

"Ha ha! That isn't even a word!" Peter laughed and Arthur resisted the urge to hit him over the head.

"You're such an insufferable imbecile!"

"Pfft, I'm not the one who's making words up."

"Ignoramus is a word, you moron! Besides, even if it wasn't, the English language is mine, so I can say whatever I want!"

Peter imitated him in a high-pitched girly voice.

"Why you little shit-"

"Language, England." Sealand smirked, enjoying the look of anger on England's face. My my, his brother really didn't know how to control his temper, "You shouldn't swear at your elders."

"You're not my elder, you bloody git!"

"Wait, so you get to call me names, but I can't call you any? That's unfair!"

"That's life, princess."

"Don't call me that, you jerk, or I swear, I will BEAT YOU UP!"

"Ooh, I'm so scared. The little non-nation is angry. Like I care."

Peter simply threw England a filthy look before turning his back to him. He was still cold and wet. He shivered under the blankets. Hopefully Arthur would just leave now. He had already riled him up enough times today, hadn't he? Besides, Peter wasn't in the mood to argue anymore. All he wanted to do was sleep. To Peter's relief, he heard footsteps leaving the room. Good. Sealand closed his eyes and tried not to wince as his shoulders continued to throb. He didn't even hear his brother come back in, so naturally, he was startled when his brother gently touched Peter's arm.

Arthur was leaning over him, bandages in hand as he started to remove the blankets. Arthur picked up a towel that had been lying on the other end of the sofa (Peter swore that it hadn't been there before) and started to dry his brother off. He did it quickly and without taking Peter's current health into consideration.

"Ow!" Peter exclaimed when Arthur ran the towel over a particularly sore spot on his shoulder. Arthur then started drying Peter's hair, which was almost dry be now anyway. Peter scowled at him.

"What are you doing?" Peter demanded.

"What does it bloody look like I'm doing?" Arthur said snappishly, "I'm helping."

Peter cocked an eyebrow but remained silent.

When Arthur seemed to be done, he said, "Lie on your stomach, please."

"Why?"

"Just do it."  
Grumbling, Peter obeyed. He buried his head in his arms when he felt some sort of liquid being poured onto his back. "What the hell?"

"Be quiet, Peter."

"What are you doing back there?" Peter asked as he twisted his head to look around at Arthur only to have a hand grab the back of his head and shove his face back down.

"Don't look."

Peter was about to object when another jolt of pain shot through his back. He yelped as the liquid (or whatever it was) began to sting, "Arthur, wha-?"

"It's just something to ease the pain, Peter."

"Ease the pain?" Peter echoed, "It's making it worse!"

Arthur didn't answer. He pulled out the rolls of bandages and started wrapping some around Peter's waist and back. He had some difficulty getting it around the midriff, but luckily Peter wasn't throwing some pathetic little hissy fit just yet.

Once Peter's torso and shoulders were completely wrapped in bandages, Peter was finally allowed to sit up. His back still stung, but it was a little better than it was before. Peter thanked whatever almighty divine there was that he wasn't a mortal, or else he would surely have ended up with broken bones. That had been quite the fall!

"Alright, I think we're done here for now. You should probably get to bed now." Arthur said. Peter nodded and tried to lift himself off the sofa but winced; the pain had lessened, certainly, but it was still there.

Arthur took Peter's arm and flung it over his shoulders. He hoisted his little brother up and helped him out of the room. The brothers slowly climbed the stairs and when they reached the top, Peter wanted nothing more than to break the strangely uncomfortable silence.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"What was that meeting with America all about?" Peter asked. He had been curious even before America and England had sent him on his way.

"Oh, nothing important." Arthur replied simply. Peter pursed his lips.

"If it was nothing important, why did you guys kick me out?"

"Because I thought that it would be important. Turns out it wasn't."

Peter wasn't completely satisfied, but then again, he never was.

The two reached Sealand's bedroom and England slowly helped his brother lie down on the bed. Peter yawned a little and looked at his window. It was still raining.

"Well, I'd best take a shower," Arthur said. At his little brother's questioning look, he added, "I had a little accident earlier."

Peter's thick, bushy eyebrows shot up.

"Try to get some rest." Arthur said before turning away and heading out.

"Wait!" Peter called out before his brother could leave. He heard a sigh and his brother re-entered the room.

"What is it, Sealand?"

"I just wanted to say..." Peter gulped loudly, as if dreading what he was about to say next, "t..t-t-t..." Peter stuttered, having difficulty saying whatever he was about to say, "T-th-an...k...y-you." Peter grimaced, as if saying the words hurt him.

Arthur's face softened a little, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Could you repeat that?" Arthur lied.

"T..tha- you know what? Screw this. Just get out of my room." Peter said in exasperation and irritation. Arthur smirked.

"Hope you have bad dreams, pest."

"Yeah, yeah, just get out already."

And with that, Arthur left his little brother alone to (hopefully) get some sleep.

**A/N: OK, like I said earlier on, I'm not happy with this chapter at all and I know that it was probably worse than what you expected it to be and for that, I apologise. Also, it's been almost a month since I updated and this is the rubbish that you get, so... double the apologies. I feel that the strange little banter/argument bit escalated way too quickly and was badly executed, but then again, it is England and Sealand and they do get into arguments over the most ridiculous things. Oh! Don't know if anyone noticed it (as this was really a teeny tiny thing), but when it said that Arthur didn't need an umbrella, I was kind of referring to his character song. If you haven't already listened to it, you should. It's mad catchy. Anyway, I hope that you still decide to stick around. I quite like the idea, but I do have difficulty writing stuff like this sometimes so if you have any constructive critcism you can give me, please feel free to do so (but please do it in a nice way). Thank-you.**


	4. I Wanna Go Home

**Chapter Four**

When Sealand woke up the next morning, he was pleased to find that the pain had gone (for the most part, anyway). The bruises were already fading and Peter found himself once again thanking whatever deity there may be for being a nation (not). To Peter's surprise, though, he hadn't woken up late like he normally did; on the contrary, Peter had, for once, woken up rather early.

At any other time, Peter would've just stayed underneath his warm covers for longer than necessary. However, this was not one of those times. Peter knew that he should still be resting, as he had not fully recovered yet, but he just wanted to get up and do something. He reasoned that actually doing something would be a waste of time, but a strange, foreign wave of energy surged through him, prompting him to get out of bed.

With a sigh, the micronation swung his legs over the edge of his bed and hopped up. His side ached a little as he did so. Groaning, the micronation left the room. He started walking down the corridor but stopped when he walked by England's room and heard voices- or rather, one voice.

"Come now, we must be quiet- hey!"

Pete'rs eyebrows creased into a frown.

"What are you doi- no, stop that!"

Curiosity getting the better of him, Sealand leaned in closer towards the door of England's room.

"Brownie, don't attack Flying Mint Bunny! He didn't do anything to you," there was a pause, "What's that? Brownie, you shouldn't tell lies. I- no, no, no, stop it! Unicorn, stop him!"

Peter stared at the door. Oh. So Arthur was just talking to his imaginary friends... again. Peter wondered why England had imaginary friends to begin with. True, he had no friends anyway... but still. Almost everyone in Sealand's family could see mythical creatures and use magic. Sealand was probably the only one out of his crazy, messed up family to **not** be completely insane.

"Unicorn, wha-? NO, DON'T ATTACK ME! PIXIE! HELPPPPPPP!" Arthur screamed, causing Peter to flinch. Sheesh. His brother seriously needed to stop taking whatever drugs he was on. Sighing, Peter decided to move on. He went downstairs for breakfast and entered the kitchen. As soon as he entered, he yelped loudly as something seemed to touch his shoulder. His head whirled around and what felt like a hand rested on his shoulder. He shivered under it and manged to jerk his shoulder away. Something seemed to be moving. He looked around and started backing out of the room.

There was some unholy presence there. It was as if there was a ghost... but, ghosts weren't real. Arthur always told him that they weren't. Then again, what did Arthur know? He had imaginary friends. America had told him about ghosts before, but Peter wasn't sure if he ought to believe him. Alfred claimed that he had an alien friend named Tony and that, during most international meetings, there was always a ghost that always lingered nearby. Peter had called him an idiot after that. Ghosts weren't real, he had told himself. He had been certain of it before, but now... now he wasn't so sure...

Something brushed against his head and he let out a piercing scream. He ran out of the room, looking behind him as he did so and bumped into something. There was a yell and Peter fell on the floor, landing on his brother.

Arthur scowled up at Peter, "What the bloody hell did you run into me for?"

"I- I wasn't-" Peter stuttered before pausing. He looked down at his brother. Peter's face contorted into disgust and he stood back up, wiping his pajama top, "Ew! Gross! I've got English germs on me now!"

England scowled, "Sealand, you are English-"

"No I'm not!"

"Sealand-"

"La la la, not listening!" he exclaimed, covering his ears. Arthur stood back up and sighed, before starting to scrutinise him.

"What are you doing running about in my house anyway?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm hiding from the ghost!" Peter said, nervously glancing left and right.

Arthur blinked and stared at Peter incredously, "Ghost? Ghosts don't exist-"  
"Yes they do! There was one in the kitchen just now!"

"Come now, Peter, don't be ridiculous-"

"I know there was something in the kitchen, Arthur! Besides, America would agree with me- he knows that ghosts exist too!"

"Peter, just because that idiot says that there are ghosts doesn't mean there are. From the looks of it, you've been spending way too much time with him."

"England, the only time I've ever spoken to him alone was when he told me about ghosts-"  
"They don't exist, Sealand. Now get back to the kitchen and I'll fix you some breakfast."

Peter's eyes widened fearfully, "NO! I'm not going back there and you shouldn't go either! There's something evil in there..." Peter lower lip seemed to tremble.

Arthur frowned. What might have been a flicker of concern flashed through his eyes, although Peter couldn't tell, as it was gone as soon as it had come, "Peter, are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright! There's a ghost in there!"

Arthur stayed silent for a moment. "Peter, I'm really starting to question your sanity."

Peter glared at him. **His** sanity? If anyone was insane, it was Arthur. Speaking to non-existent fairy creatures and talking about stuff like _magic_. Peter was about to point this out when Arthur started speaking again, "You know what? You can stay here if you want. I'm going to get some breakfast."

Arthur started heading towards the kitchen.

"Fine! When you're dead, don't say I didn't warn you!" Peter yelled after him. His brother didn't even acknowledge him and Peter felt his heart drop as he saw Arthur entering the kitchen. A loud yelp was heard and Peter's heart started pounding. "ARTHUR! GET OUT OF THERE!"

He raced towards the kitchen only to find that his brother was not in any danger. He was staring at something in front of him.

"America?" England asked and sure enough, America was standing right in front of them. He seemed a little... different though. His eyes seemed to be violet, his hair was lighter, longer and more wavy, instead of a cowlick he had an ahodge, and in his arms was what looked like a polar bear. England stared at America, "What are you doing here?"

"I-I'm not America..."

Both England and Sealand stared at him doubtfully.

"I-I'm Canada."

There was a long, awkward silence.

"Who?" England and Sealand asked simultaneously.

"Canada!" the America-look-a-like exclaimed.

"What's a `Canada´?" Peter asked.

"Me. I'm Canada. T-the guy who y-you pretend to be at the w-world c-conferences," the so-called Canada said and turned to face Arthur with a sad look on his face, "It's me. Matthew. You partly raised me."

Arthur simply stared at the shy nation and groaned.

"That's right! Sorry, Canadia, I'm awfully tired this morning. Of course I knew it was you," England gave an awkward laugh. No one laughed with him. The former Empire cleared his throat, "Won't you sit down and have something to eat?"

"I-I'm afraid I d-don't have t-time. I only c-came by to give you s-something." Canada's voice was soft and barely audible. Peter had to strain to hear every word that he was saying.

"Oh. I see. Well, what is it that you have for me?"

"This." Canada took something out from his coat pocket and handed a letter over to Arthur.

"What is this?" Arthur asked as he took the letter.

"I-it's an invitation, sir. F-for my brother's birthday p-party..."

Arthur scowled, "I don't need it," Arthur said coolly, "Your brother already invited me in person. Is there anything else? Or are you just here to waste my time?"

Both Sealand and Canada winced at England's tone.

"Actually t-there is something else." Canada whispered and handed the eldest nation present yet another letter. Arthur took it, opened it and read it. His abnormally large eyebrows creased into a frown and they shot up once he had finished reading.

"I-Is this some sort of joke?"

"I-it's not a j-joke! It's serious. You need to b-be there."

Arthur eyed his former charge/ward/brother before giving off a nod.

"Of course. Just out of curiousity, who gave you this?" Arthur waved the letter around.

"A-America. He told me to give it to you..."

"Too lazy to do it himself, was he?"

"H-he's got a lot going on... what with his b-big party-"

"Yes, the party," England interrupted dryly, "Speaking of which, will you be attending?"

Matthew didn't answer; his eyes were fixed on the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I-I have to. I'm his brother." Canada said apologetically.

Arthur sighed, "Well, nevermind that now. I only wonder why I wasn't informed about this before." Arthur inclined his head towards the letter.

"It was a bit last-minute."

"So it seems," Arthur walked over to the cupboards and grabbed a box of cereal. He turned to his youngest brother, "Peter, have some breakfast."

Peter, who had been mostly ignored during the whole exchange, was surprised that his big brother was actually letting him eat cereal, "Really? I can?"

"They're there for a reason, lad. Besides, a little treat once in a while can't hurt." Arthur smiled sweetly at Peter. Peter stared at him with wide eyes. Arthur was being nice... to him? Sure, Arthur hadn't been so bad yesterday, but that was because Peter had been injured, and Arthur was never nice to him unless...

Peter's eyes narrowed slightly. Arthur obviously wanted something from him. He went to the fridge and got some milk, grabbed a bowl and a spoon and sat down at the table. He grabbed the cereal box and poured the cereal into his bowl. He then added milk. His eyes never left his brother as he did so.

Arthur and Matthew looked on as Peter ate in silence. When he was finished, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Peter... do you mind giving us a moment? I'd like to have a word with Canadia for a moment."

Peter dropped his spoon in his bowl with a clatter. He sat up straight and sighed, "This is about something important, isn't it?"

His brother did not reply.

"Could I... just this once.. can't I just be a part of whatever it is?" Peter asked, surprised at how nicely he was asking this. It was probably just because Arthur had helped him out a bit yesterday. This strange kindness would wear off soon enough.

Arthur looked at him with tired eyes, "No. I'm sorry, Peter, but this has nothing to do with you."

"If I just-"

"This is none of your concern, Sealand."

"But-"

"Put your bowl into the dishwasher and get dressed." England ordered, interrupting Sealand. Peter's jaw clenched and he scowled.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no." Peter said firmly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Matthew fidgeting a little.

"Peter," a scary fake smile was plastered on England's face, "That wasn't a request."

Peter glared at Arthur. The two seemed to be locked in some kind of heated staring competition, with Matthew standing awkwardly behind them. Peter stood up abruptly and left without putting away his things. He stomped upstairs and headed towards his bedroom. Stupid England. Why wasn't he ever allowed to be included in those conversations? He was a nation too! He had as much right to know these kind of things as everyone else did. Peter got dressed and huffed as he plopped down on his bed.

What to do? England would be busy with what's-his-face and Peter couldn't risk trying to sneak into that stupid locked room again. Perhaps if he listened in on his brother's conversation? A mischevious smile found its way on Peter's little face. Yes, that seemed like a fine idea. It wasn't like he couldn't handle whatever they were talking about. Besides, he had a right to know what was going on, even if it was something as small as a tiny storm half-way across the world. It was always his right to know. No one had the right to keep him in the dark. Blowing a stray strand of hair from his face, Peter decided that when he became Supreme Dark Overlord, no one would ever undermine his authority again.

~.~.~.~.~.~.

Arthur's face was blank as he watched Peter stomp out of the kitchen. The country then turned his gaze onto his other brother.

"Why is this happening?" he asked suddenly, getting straight to the point.

"I d-don't know," Matthew said softly, "Apparently, Ludwig, Ivan and Francis set this m-meeting up. They want the meeting as soon as possible. M-must be important."

Arthur's bushy eyebrows knitted in confusion, "France? Working with Russia and Germany?!"

"D-don't act so surprised. Germany and France's relationship has been getting better..."  
"Yes, but **Russia**?"

Matthew sighed, "I don't know much about it either. All I know is that those t-three opted to hold the c-conference meeting a fortnight earlier than it should have been... maple. I can't b-believe that it's only two w-weeks away from now..."

"It better be damn important."

"I have no doubt that it is. Papa w-wouldn't just change the date so suddenly if it wasn't."  
"I wouldn't be so sure. I wouldn't put it past that bloody frog to do something like this simply for his own amusement."

Canada shook his head with a small smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as it had come, "Do... do you think that something's wrong?"

"There had better be something wrong," England grumbled, "Or else it would just be a waste of my time."

Canada's eyes were drawn to the large clock facing opposite him, "Well, I'd better go. After all, I'm p-pretty busy myself."

"Of course. Good-bye then, Matthew. I'll see you soon." England bid him farewell and the younger nation departed. Arthur stared at the letter in his right hand. Sighing, he slid it back inside the envelope and got up to leave. As he left, he almost bumped into something.

"Sealand! What the bloody hell are you doing!?" Arthur demanded.

"N-nothing!" Peter yelled back. Arthur narrowed his emerald eyes in suspicioun at his brother.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"NO! Besides, it's none of your business even if I was... which I wasn't!"

"Peter..." Arthur groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's not like it was anything important. You barely said anything at all! Just something about some dumb meeting- HEY!"

Arthur had grabbed Peter's arms and was squeezing them tightly, "I don't know what Berwald's been teaching you, but in my house, you will abide by my rules. You do not, under any circumstances, eavesdrop on any of my conversations. Are we clear?"

"But this was just about some stupid change in the date of the meeting-!"

"It matters not! It matters not what my conversations are about!"

"OK, OK, chill. I won't do it again," Peter lied, "But like I said, it wasn't even important. Nothing extraordinary's happened or-"  
"We don't know that for sure. Something must have happened, or else they wouldn't have changed the date in such short notice. Clearly, you don't understand the gravity of the situation."

"What? It was just eavesdropping, you're blowing this way out of proportion-"

"Not that, you idiot! If the date of an international meeting is changed, that means something **very** important has happened. Think about it for a second; when our bosses set a date for us to meet, that means that it is fixed. Nothing can change it **unless** something has happened or the majority of the countries attending the meeting have opted to change the date. I expected a nation wanna-be such as yourself would at least know this."

"I AM NOT A NATION WANNA-BE! I AM SEALAND AND ONE DAY I WILL RULE OVER YOU- AIYAH!"

"Lower your voice, you imbecile, you're going to give me a migraine!" England seethed.

"Good! That should teach you not to mess with me! Oh, how I look forward to day when you bow down at me feet~"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

"One day, you'll know what it's like! To have to follow orders, to have to do stupid, pointless chores, to be forced against your will to be a slave to someone else, to-"

"Sealand, for the love of God, shut up. I am so sick and tired of listening to your whining! You are not a nation, for crying out loud! Stop trying to act like one!"

"And I'm sick of you trying to put me down! I am a nation! You're just too afraid to admit it! You're too afraid to admit that one day, I'll be bigger than you ever were!"

Arthur barked a laugh, "Oh, is that so? You, the simple little metal platform, an empire? I doubt that very much, you pest!"

"PEST?!"

"Yes, Sealand, pest. Do you not know the meaning of the word? I'm not surprised. My, you really are an idiotic, silly little _micronation_. Ha, micronation! The very word makes me laugh. Tell me, do you even realise how utterly useless those like you are?"

"How dare you call me useless, you foul-!"

"But you are useless."

"No I'm not! I am the world's saviour, I am exactly what this planet needs-"

"You are nothing but a burden to everyone, Sealand, you're just an insufferable brat with a nation complex! You are impolite, you show no respect towards your elders-"

"HA! You hypocrite! You never showed China any respect during the Opium Wars or after!"

"That was different, that was war, Peter. Something that you do not understand!"

"I was **made** by war! I was born during World War II, I know **everything** about war!"

"You ignorant fool. You don't know _anything_ about war. You weren't out in the trenches, fighting, killing, constantly in fear of an enemy attack. You were safe at home-"

"I was a war tool!"

"And that is all you will ever be. You know, you really should treat me with some respect."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I am the only reason you are alive today, I raised you!"

"And what a fine job you did of that!"

Peter almost wished that he hadn't said that; Arthur looked downright murderous.

"Don't try to blame me for how you turned out! You have only yourself to blame for that! I fed you, took care of you, and this is the thanks I get?!"

"You didn't take care of me! You **used** me, and when I wasn't of use to you anymore, you sold me to the highest bidder!"

"Wrong, Sealand. **You** sold yourself to the highest bidder. To think that you have such low self-esteem that you would _sell _yourself... I am thoroughly disgusted and ashamed to have any connection with you whatsoever."

Peter's eyes shone with unshed tears as the sharp words cut through him like a knife. He was a moment away from his breaking point. Unfortunately for him though, England saw his weakness and verbally attacked him one more time.

"Face it, Sealand... nobody cares about you." England leered. Peter froze at that sentence. He blinked back the tears and threw Arthur the most heated glare he could muster, "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!"

"Good."

"You are so EVIL, England. I was only eavesdropping and then you go and make it such a big deal! I'm glad that I live with Pappa Sweden now. He actually takes care of me, unlike you! I don't regret selling myself one bit. The only thing I regret is coming back to this hell hole!" Peter half-yelled, half-screeched at England before turning on his heel and running far, far away. He ran down the hall and streaked past the back door.

He kept running deep, deep inside the ridiculously large garden and stopped when he ran out of breath. He panted heavily and leaned against a tree. His hands were balled into fists and his jaw was clenched. Damn him! Damn that stupid jerk England! He'd show him. Peter wasn't a useless nobody; he was a soon-to-be empire, damn it, and he should be treated as such! What did England know anyway? He was nothing but a has-been! His centuries of fame came and went and now it was Sealand's time to shine! So what if he was simply an abandoned oil platform? So what if he was just a used war fort? He deserved to be recognised as a country! Him and all his fellow micronations... but especially him!

The other micronations... most of them got what it felt like, but it wasn't the same. Take Wy for example. Even though she wasn't a country, Australia at least acknowledged her as something more than a nuisance; as something a little more than a micronation. As much as Sealand liked Wy, she would always rub it in his face whenever she got the chance.

Peter angrily punched the tree. Some wood cracked off and Peter winced. His hand started throbbing madly and he started shaking it, hoping that the pain would just disappear. He looked back at the tree with a regretful look.

"Sorry." Peter apologised to the tree and gave it a little pat. He stood up straight again before immediately slumping down. The micronation stared off into space as England's words came back to haunt him. _"You are not a nation, for crying out loud! Stop trying to act like one!"_

"_-nothing but a burden to everyone-"_

"_Tell me, do you even realise how utterly useless those like you are?"_

"_I am thoroughly disgusted and ashamed to have any connection with you whatsoever."_

Peter drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his hands.

"_-insufferable brat-"_

"_-wanna-be nation-"_

"_You sold yourself to the highest bidder."_

"_Face it, Sealand... nobody cares about you."_

A tear rolled down Peter's cheek and he angrily wiped it away. Why the hell was he crying? This was just stupid Arthur. England called him names all the time. How was this any different?

_Because you know what he says is true..._

Peter stopped breathing; could it be? Could England really be right about everything he had said? Of course, Sealand was obviously a country (no doubt about that), but what about everything else? Was he really that annoying? Did everyone really hate him?

...Nah! He was probably over-analyzing what his jerk-of-a-brother had said. Anyone with a brain loved him. He was just being ridiculous. Peter threw his head back and it banged on the tree. He hissed and rubbed the back of his head. He really shouldnt've done that. He looked up at the sky; it looked like it was going to rain again. It was getting quite cold, too. Peter sighed and decided to head back inside. He pushed himself off the ground and started walking back towards the house. He just hoped that he didn't bump into Arthur.

Once he was inside, he found that he realised that there really was nothing to do. He still had the whole day left (even if it was raining outside) and he was bored out of his mind. He decided to send Raivis a message on Facebook or something. He hadn't spoken to Latvia in a really long time.

Peter dashed upstairs and went into the only room that he had access to that had a computer; England's room. He wasn't actually allowed in his brother's room, but he really needed something to do, so he didn't care that he was forbidden from entering. Sealand started the computer and sat down in the puffy black swivel chair. The computer asked for Arthur's password and Sealand bit his lip; what could it possibly be? He frowned and typed in "Sealand". Incorrect password. So he decided to type in "Peter". Also incorrect. "Sealand is the best". Didn't work. "England is the best country". Incorrect. "America's an idiot". Wrong again. "France sucks". How on earth could that be wrong? "God Save The Queen". OK, something was seriously wrong with this stupid computer, because there was no way that that wasn't England's password.

Peter bit his lip; he tried everything from "Scones are great" to "England's the most powerful nation in the world". Nothing worked. Peter gritted his teeth and tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. He looked around England's room and looked for some kind of clue. There was a flag of the Union Jack behind his bed, a mug that read "World's Best Brother" that lay on his bedside table (England had purchased this for himself; having taken in so many other countries, he had proclaimed himself to be the best brother in the world), photos, paintings and posters of Winston Churchill, Queen Elizabeth II, Queen Victoria, Elizabeth I, the Beatles, Pink Floyd, J.R.R Tolkein, J.K Rowling and other memorable British people covered the walls, and then- Sealand froze. There was a mini statue on a table across the room of a strong woman raising a flag up high, standing tall and proud; Britannia. There were words etched at the bottom of the statue: "The Sun Never Sets on the British Empire".

This gave Sealand an idea. He typed in "The British Empire Lives". Peter whooped when the password seemed to be the correct one. Really, that should have been his first guess. England always romanticised about his glory days; back when he actually meant something. Peter tutted; all former Empires that he had met seemed to always try to live in the past. Britain, Turkey, China, Russia, France, Denmark, Austria... all of them seemed to long for the days when they used to be "omnipotent" (although in a way, Russia still seemed pretty omnipotent to Sealand... he hadn't met him often, but from what he could see and from what Latvia told him, Russia was a pretty scary pyscho).

The screen loaded and Peter got back to the task at hand. He opened "Google Chrome" and typed in "facebook" in the search engine. When the page loaded, he logged in to his account to find that Raivis had sent him a message. He clicked on it and it expanded. It read:

**Peter, I'm not going to be able to talk much. Even though I'm free from Mr. Russia's rule, he's still trying to make me do his work for him. I've tried to explain that I'm no longer obliged to work for him, but he just doesn't seem to listen. He just gave me that creepy smile and now I'm going to hide under my bed and patiently wait for death. I'll be a bit busy this week, but I hope that you have fun :)**

**-Raivis**

Peter huffed. This was so unfair! Now he had no one to talk to! He supposed he ought to try talking to Wy or Seborga (even if Seborga hated his guts). Peter quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, he just updated his status.

**Stayin' with Jerk Ass has proven to be worse than I thought. Ugh! He's so annoying! I wish he would just dieeee :(**

He logged out pretty soon after and shut the computer back down again. Well, that had been all for nothing. Peter went back to his room just in time to hear his Nokia Lumia phone ringing. He grabbed it and answered the call without looking at the caller ID.

"... Hullo?"

"Petteri!" a cheery, bubbly voice over the phone called.

"Peter." Peter automatically corrected, even though his heat leapt with joy at the oh-so-familiar voice.

"...Right. Berwald and I just wanted to call you up and see how you were doing! We've been having such a great time with your uncles, but we really miss you. How are you?"

A brilliant idea came to Peter's mind. If he really tried, he probably might be able to convince his parents to take him home. He'd just make up some bullshit story about England and sound really convincing, and then he wouldn't be so damn bored all the time or annoyed.

"Isä, I want to go home."

"What's wrong?" Finland's tone changed dramatically from excited to worried.

"I don't like it here." Peter sniffed.

"Why not?"

"England's been a real jerk to me-"  
"Peter-"

"Isä," Peter whimpered, immediately cutting off whatever Tino was about to say, "Arthur hurt me yesterday..."

"Oh, Peter, I'm sure he didn't mean it-"

"He did. He pushed me out of the window because I woke up a bit too late. I tried to apologise, Isä, I really did... but he wouldn't listen to me. I'm so sorry." Peter's voice hitched. There was silence on the other line.

"He what?" Finland's voice was cheery, but Sealand could tell that it was fake.

"He pushed me out of the window..."

"Oh, Sealand, are you alright? Of course you're not," Finland said before Peter could say anything, "This is my fault, I should never have let you stay with your brother. I really hoped that you would get the chance to fix your broken relationship with England, but... oh, I am so sorry, Peter, please forgive me!"  
"I-it's not your fault, Isä. I... I should have woken up e-earlier," Peter choked back a sob, "Oh, Isä, it hurts!"

"Sealand, I- I don't know what to say..."

"P-please, Iskä... take me home... please."

"Peter, I really wish that I could," Tino spoke softly, his voice tinted with regret, "But the meeting-"

Peter started sobbing a little, "I... d-don't...w-want... to...stay!"

"Peter, rakas, please stop crying!"

Peter continued to sob.

"Alright, alright! I- I'm coming right over. Berwald can pick up my notes at the meeting... or something. Don't worry, I'll be there soon!"

"Oh, thank-you, Isä... thank-you." Peter cried out in relief, his large smile reaching his eyes.

"I'll be there as soon as possible. I-I've got to go now, but I'll talk to you soon, OK?... I love you."

"I love you too, Isä." Peter sniffed and hung up. He wiped away his crocodile tears (they had somehow escaped during his little act) and grinned widely. Excellent. His father was going to pick him up and he was going to be saved! Finally, he could get started on playing the new video game that he recently bought! Oh, joy!

**A/N:...And here we have another lame, long chapter XD. My my, Sealand's taken things a bit too far, dontcha think? I know, I know, Finland totally believed Sealand way too easily (he ought to know better, knowing Peter), but Finland has a big heart (kind of...) and the mere thought of anyone hurting his son will turn him into a mother hen ha ha! Don't worry, though... Berwald will be MUCH harder to convince.**

**I did mean to get this up earlier and I originally wanted to make an amazingly long chapter for Easter, but I've already finished this chapter and should probably put it up now. I've been procrastinating for far too long. I know this probably doesn't live up to your expectations (especially the *little* argument between Peter and Arthur, which I think moved way too quickly), but life's been quite hectic for me lately("Ah, that excuse again")and I haven't had much time to myself (Like you haven't heard that one before). Also, I actually have no idea what happens when the date of an international meeting of sorts is changed, or how it can happen. What I have written in the story is purely fictional :D.**

**Also, in my headcannon, Francis is Matthew's "Papa"... I like to think of Arthur as the "big brother" who raised him once Canada was ceded to Britain.**

**Feedback is much appreciated, so please leave a review. Oh, and one more thing: HAVE A HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE! MAY YOU EAT AS MANY DELICIOUS GOODIES AS YOU LIKE!**


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